Emerald Buddha

Chapter 34

Joe marched toward the hidden valley at the head of a ragged column. Dick and Harry followed directly behind, and the rest trailed in a rough procession along the game trail. Joe gripped a machete in one hand and his AK in the other, and occasionally hacked his way through a tangle of vines and branches, the track only clear to knee level.

“Boar,” Joe had explained when he’d found the path. “We’ll follow it as long as it leads in the right direction. Better to stay away from any human-sized trails as we enter the contested zone. Don’t want to draw enemy fire.”

“That would be bad,” Drake agreed.

“Total buzz kill,” Joe said.

“How will we know when we’re out of Shan territory?”

Joe held out his machete toward Dick and Harry. “Just watch their body language. When they look like they’re going to piss their pants, we’re in no-man’s land.”

That had been just after dawn, and they’d been hiking southwest ever since, the ground fog thick for the first three hours. The going was slow due to their choice of routes, but Joe had insisted on staying in the densest part of the jungle, using the GPS for guidance as they worked their way toward the twin spires.

They took a break for lunch by the bank of a brook that gushed down the side of a mountain, dining on a rice pudding that Joe assured them would hold for a week without spoiling. Once they were done, they continued plodding toward the valley, climbing steep slopes and traversing rocky outcroppings, the peaks barely visible in the distance when they reached high points above the canopy. It drizzled all afternoon, making an already unpleasant route even more difficult, and everyone was exhausted by the time they reached a stream several miles from the karst peaks.

They made camp with the last of the fading light, and Joe had a hushed conversation with Dick and Harry. Drake had discussed how to distract the pair so that they could sneak away and inspect the wreckage during the night, and Joe had agreed to take one for the team.

A fire was out of the question, given their circumstances, so after the tents were pitched, they sat in the moonlight, which was bright enough for them to see each other clearly, and munched on their dinner. Dick and Harry had some sort of foul-smelling fish concoction they spooned down with mess kits, and every time Allie got a whiff of it, her gorge threatened to rise in her throat. They seemed happy with their meal, though, and smacked their lips and burped continuously as they wolfed it down.

When they were finished, Joe held out a joint the size of a cigar, brandishing it like a magic wand. The men’s eyes lit up at the sight, and after a token refusal they were passing it back and forth.

Joe leaned toward Drake and gave him a crooked grin. “I laced this with a little opiated hash for extra pop. You want a taste?”

“Um, no, thanks. I think, given what I’m going to be up to, I’d rather be straight.”

“Total downer, man. Maybe it’ll help you see in the dark. It definitely sharpens my intuition, you know?”

“Yeah, well, good for you. I’ll pass.”

Joe took a long drag and held it in as he handed the spliff back to Harry. “Smooth, daddy-o. Lemme know if you change your mind.”

The three of them smoked the joint down to a nub, and soon Joe was yawning, his eyes glazed. Dick and Harry looked like they’d been shot with a tranquilizer dart, and were out cold within minutes of staggering to their tent, their snores a rumbling drone through the thin fabric.

Joe whispered theatrically to Spencer as he stood. “Good luck, dude. Watch out for gremlins.”

“I need the GPS,” Drake reminded Joe. Joe looked around and then stumbled to his tent. He stepped back out with the GPS in one hand and a pair of night vision goggles in the other.

“Leng lent me these in case we had to move at night. You ever use them?” Joe asked.

Uncle Pete stepped forward. “I know how.”

Joe handed the goggles to him, and Uncle Pete slipped the strap over his head. Joe regarded Allie. “We’re about three klicks from the wreckage. Take you a couple hours each direction if you’re lucky. So no rest for the wicked tonight,” he said, offering the GPS to her. “You know how to work it?”

“I can figure it out.”

Uncle Pete led the way from the camp, and Spencer followed, Allie and Drake bringing up the rear. The valley was enshrouded with fog, and the moonlight lent the white blanket a ghostly glow as they ascended the rise. Joe’s estimate of the time it would take to reach the stream proved overly optimistic, and the two hours had turned into three before they found the river where the plane had gone down.

They stopped at the water’s edge, and Uncle Pete consulted the GPS. He pointed east. “That way. Maybe two hundred meters.” He pushed the goggles up and blinked. “See good with no scope, huh?”

“Yes. Lucky it’s nearly a full moon,” Allie whispered.

Uncle Pete picked his way along the bank, moving slowly, the only sound the burble of the water rushing around occasional rocks. They reached a fork in the stream, and Allie peered at the GPS before pointing to their right. Uncle Pete nodded and they made their way around the bend and then stopped and stared at a shape in front of them. The twisted metal of a fuselage rose halfway out of the water. One wing was wedged into a tree, and the other lay fifteen yards behind the plane.

They stood transfixed by the sight of the mangled tail section, the cabin in surprisingly good shape. Spencer was the first to move and approach the wreckage. Drake and Allie followed, Uncle Pete hanging back as they neared.

The glass was shattered from every window, and the passenger door hung crookedly from a single hinge. Spencer walked to the prop and studied the engine section while Drake and Allie peered into the cabin.

The pilot’s decomposed corpse grinned at them from his seat. Most of the flesh was gone, the jungle’s predators having feasted on it and maggots having done the rest. Allie grabbed Drake’s arm as her eyes adjusted to the grisly vision and she looked away.

“Oh, God, Drake…”

He drew her close and hugged her as he whispered in her ear, “The big surprise is that it’s only the pilot. I don’t see Christine’s or her boyfriend’s bodies. They aren’t here.”

“Maybe they got thrown clear?” Allie ventured. “It looks like the plane came apart when it hit.

Spencer’s voice carried from the front of the plane. “Guys? I think I know what caused the crash.” He rounded the fuselage and stepped toward them. “And it was no storm.”

Jiao crept along, following the Americans after watching the Myanmar soldiers pass out in the camp. He’d arrived shortly after he’d received word from his source that they were at the base of one of the tall monoliths that framed the entrance to a remote valley.

He’d been able to secure a ride on a motorcycle with a young farmhand who had jumped at the chance to make the equivalent of a hundred dollars, and had made it near the camp after receiving the call. His hike from the road in the dark had rattled his nerves, given the inherent danger in the area, but he’d made it without any problems and had monitored the group until four of them had snuck off, presumably in search of the plane. Jiao had followed at a safe distance and hidden in the bushes when he’d seen the outline of the aircraft. The Americans were now having an animated discussion, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

He watched as the tallest of them led the other three to the front of the plane and pointed to it. Whatever they had discovered had unnerved them. Jiao crouched motionless in the moonlight as they inspected the wreckage, his fingers on the butt of the pistol in his belt, waiting patiently as the Americans murmured unintelligibly by the twisted remains of the Cessna.